Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
I stayed in the shower for what seemed like too long. No matter how much I rinsed my mouth, the harsh, powdery taste clung. Defeated, I finally got out and dried off.
I walked into the bedroom to see that he had gotten out the rope and was busy tying lengths to opposite bedposts. Once again, my pulse was in my throat. “Can’t I… just… stay still?” I asked, meekly. While bondage wasn’t unusual for us, it did often mean that he had planned something painful. My night had already been painful.
“I’m afraid not,” he said, too casually. “You’ve already shown me your lack of self-control tonight,” he shrugged.
Dammit, I cursed myself. He was right. He was always right. I shakily let out the breath I had been holding; I knew I deserved whatever he did to me. “I’m sorry,” I said. It sounded underwhelming, even to me.
He turned and tipped my chin up, placing a soft kiss on my swollen lip. “I know.” Taking my hand, he led me to the end of the bed. “Lay on your back, legs against the posts.”
I sat down carefully on my abrated ass and tentatively lowered myself, so that my back was flat and my legs formed a vertical V shape. Cool air flowed over my wet slit, making me shiver. It was hard not to feel vulnerable as he rigged up my legs and ankles.
After he seemed satisfied that I was secure, he knelt down between my legs. I could see only the top of his forehead, so I was caught off guard when his soft tongue began to lick me experimentally. He circled my clit, paying extra attention to the skin around the tiny barbell. I felt myself swell, and I sighed under his diligence. He continued to lap softly until my breath came in ragged bursts and I could feel another orgasm bubbling toward the surface of my body. He stopped, maddingly, just as I was about to spill over the edge. I groaned, trying to find his mouth again with my pelvis. My restraints, however, kept me firmly anchored.
I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breathing as I felt my almost-climax ebb away. My eyes shot back open as I heard the too-familiar zip-zip-zip of his belt being pulled loose from his jeans. “No…” I pleaded weakly, realizing too late his plan.
The belt crashed down on my exposed pussy, making me scream. Twice more, then four on each inner thigh. When he stopped, I was heaving with sobs.
“Beautiful,” he appraised, kneeling down again in front of my pussy. His tongue traced the path his belt had taken, again paying careful attention to my clit.
The junction of pain and pleasure drove me wild; it always did. Too soon I felt myself approach the edge, and I began to beg. “Please, let me cum… please…”
He smirked, picking up his belt again.
I lost count of how many times he repeated the pattern. My mind had long since been reduced to a haze of gray noise as the cascade of conflicting brain chemicals vied for dominance. I was only vaguely aware that he had stopped when I began to hear the volume of my desperate, weeping appeals slowly increase. I was lost; begging, pleading for him to go, stop, continue, don’t leave me like this. If I could have promised him anything he wanted, I would have.
“Shh, shh now,” he consoled. His voice was quiet. “That was not showing me your faked orgasm.”
I whimpered. “I’m… sorry.” An errant sob wracked through me. “I’m.. so, so sorry, Sir. I… tried.”
“I know, baby. I know you did.” He sat down on the bed next to me, stroking my wet cheek. “But you know what?” His brow furrowed in mock concern. “We’ll practice, okay? We’ll practice until you get it just right.”
I screwed my eyes shut, willing myself to unhear those words. I couldn’t speak; I just shook my head slowly.
“Yes, Sofia,” his voice hardened. “Say it. Tell me you want it. Tell me how much you want to suffer for me.”
“I… can’t…” I cried.
“Don’t make me pick the belt back up. You know I’ll do it, and I’ll enjoy it. But you’re pretty busted up already.” He paused, tracing his fingertips over my fethiye escort swollen pussy lips. “Unless that’s what you want? Is it?” He played at being concerned.
I sighed, trapped. In my most honest moments, I would admit to loving being trapped. I loved how helpless I was against him. The way he played me, with his mocking allusions to concern, nothing was better than that. “No… no.” I hesitated, not really wanting to say the words, but I didn’t see that I had a choice. “Please…” I took a deep breath. “Please, Sir.. please let me…”
He slipped a finger in my pussy, making me trail off dumbly. I arched my back, feeling myself contract around his attending digit. “Go on.”
He always made everything so difficult.
“Please… let me…” my voice shook, “Let me suffer… for you.” He put in a second finger. “Ahh, oh gods, please. Please, please let me suffer for you. Let me show you. Let me show you… show you the best fake orgasms. I want to show you… I want to show you how. Please! Please, Sir. Oh… gods, yes…” He inserted a third finger, and slowed his pace. I tried desperately to buck against him, feeling nearly hysterical. “Please! Yes… yes, yes! Please, Sir…” I began to cry, again. “Please let me suffer for you…” I begged pitifully.
He slowly removed his fingers, bringing them to my mouth. The taste of my juices mingled with the lingering acridness of the soaping earlier.
He looked at me carefully. “I don’t know,” he said playfully. “You’re sure?”
My face was a mess of tears as I wailed my song of frustration. “Yes!”
“I’m so pleased to hear you say that,” he paused for impact, “Because after what I’ve seen tonight, I think we ought to reintroduce your chastity belt.” He smiled cruelly, obviously revelling in his own sadism.
He ran his finger through my slick folds, eliciting a new round of soft crying from me. I started to shake my head, to start to argue, to beg. I really didn’t want it. He had made me wear it for only a week before we started this last period of denial, and it had been absolutely hellish. Because it wasn’t really a chastity belt, not really, in the way one might think of it. It was more like… a piece of wearable technology. A futuristic term for something that serves an ancient purpose.
It’s more than just a hard barrier to keep my fingers out of my cunt, obviously. My husband is a computer engineer. He’s worked on projects to develop activity trackers; they’ve become quite popular now, almost ubiquitous. He’s part of the team that calibrated all the sensors that track how fast you move, how long you run, how many floors you climb, how many laps you swim. Being disappointed with the lack of options for a long-term wearable chastity device for women, he designed something… special for me.
He held up the crescent-shaped device. It was black, hard plastic on the outside and soft silicone on the inside; every seam waterproof. Just the look of it was intimidating, and I began to weep. I didn’t want it, didn’t want to do this. But I knew he was right. I knew I deserved it.
He laid the triangular top over my mons, and the small electromagnets along the top and sides connected with my two rows of surface piercings. His fingers gently swiped the front, lighting up the display. A single tap, and I felt my swollen clit being drawn slightly into the machine. It felt like the softest tongue tenderly sucking me, and I drew in my breath. The next series of magnets clicked onto my clit hood barbell, leaving me engorged and unprotected.
I screwed my eyes shut as new nerve endings were suddenly exposed. “Please…” I begged him. “I can’t do this, not again. Please.”
He crawled on top of me, pinning my upper body. He held my chin harshly between his fingers, making my lip throb. “Tell me you don’t deserve this.” His voice was callous. “Tell me you don’t think you deserve this. Tell me that.”
I couldn’t, of alanya escort course.
“Fucking whore.” He shook his head and rolled back off to continue his work.
The device followed the curve of my body, below my clit. There was a mesh portion, and then a small nub that nestled into my cunt. The last magnet clicked decisively onto my fourchette barbell.
Another swipe across the display, and I felt the nub expanding into me. Not enough to fill me, although I knew it could do that, too – but enough that I was aware of it. I tilted my head back in half-pleasure.
“Okay, then. Just about set up,” he said, surprisingly cheerfully. “How does it feel, love?”
“Fine.” I gritted my teeth.
“Oh, I think we can do better than that, can’t we?” He picked up his phone; the whole device could be controlled and monitored via an app.
I watched him swipe and press a couple of times, and then the vibrations on my clit began. I couldn’t help but moan as my most sensitive spots were stimulated ruthlessly; my heart rate jumped as I felt my impending orgasm.
“Perfect, yes,” he said, not taking his eyes off his screen. “Looks like we still have all of your previous data, so the AI should be able to keep you even closer to the edge, this time.”
His voice was lost to me, though, as my body raced toward climax. My breathing became ragged and shallow, and I felt pussy’s first contraction on the plastic dick inside me.
And then all the vibrations stopped.
I wailed as the all-too-familiar feeling of denial washed through me.
“How close were you there?” he asked, clinically.
I closed my eyes. I deserved this, I knew. “It was… perfect. Perfectly close.”
“Good. On to the next calibration, then.”
I sighed.
The dildo slowly grew larger and larger, and then it, too, began vibrating. We had spent a great deal of time on our first attempt getting to the right depth, so it connected squarely with my g-spot. This time, it felt good, but not as good as I knew it could feel.
“How’s that?”
I struggled internally with what to tell him. Lie, and save myself some bit of anguish, or tell the truth and take the full punishment.
My hesitation must have tipped him off. “Sofia,” his voice a warning.
Dammit, I thought. “It’s… it’s not quite right. I think… it’s further up.” A tiny swipe, and a small motion inside me brought every sensation into inescapable, heartless focus. My eyes widened and my jaw went slack.
“There it is,” he purred. “Right there.”
He studied me for the short time it took for me to reach the edge of another climax. I was panting and straining against my bonds when the vibrations died again. I groaned.
“Alright, looks like it’s all set up,” he said, lowering his lips to mine. He kissed me chastely, tracing my swollen lip with his tongue. I reached my own tongue to meet his, as a new round of vibrations began roiling through the device.
We kissed only briefly, before he pulled away. I did not see, and certainly was not expecting, another heavy slap across my face. I cried out as my head was jerked to the side, but I wasn’t sure if it was from surprise, pain, or discordant pleasure.
“You taste like soap.” He spat, leaving a trail of warm saliva across the bridge of my nose. The vibrations quit. “Nasty slut.”
I sobbed. “Yes Sir.”
He picked up his phone and leaned back. He tapped the screen coldly. “You did a week for me last time.”
I felt a ball of fear well up in my throat. That week had been awful, with the device keeping me on the edge of orgasm all day long. The things he made me do… that I agreed to do, in that state… I shuddered to remember it all. At that moment, the bulb in my pussy began anew its vexing rhythm, and my thoughts melted away. This was good, so good. “Yes, Sir…” I murmured dumbly. I felt the struggle of cognition drip slowly away, centering manavgat escort every brain impulse purely on the sensation in my cunt.
“So let’s go for two weeks, this time.”
I was vaguely aware of the word, two. I knew that word meant something, something important for me. The vibrations intensified. Two. “Oh, gods, yes!” I moaned. Two weeks. “Yes… yes…” I breathed heavily. “Yes, please…”
My voice trailed off as the vibrations did. “Oh… gods…” I lamented, as the swelling orgasm faded back to nothing. The thought resurfaced dimly. Two weeks. He had set me up for two weeks.
The reality then hit me, and my eyes popped wide open. “Two weeks!” I squawked incredulously. “Ethan!”
He looked at me with barely concealed glee.
“Ethan…” I took a deep breath. “…Sir… I can’t. I can’t do that!”
He said nothing, but tapped his phone again. A chorus of vibrations began their harmony across my most sensitive parts, stimulating everything all at once. The pulses were mild, as so did not immediately overwhelm me. But it did remove the harshest edge of my hesitancy; I felt myself relax.
“Tell me you want it.” The tiny oscillations of the device stepped up, minutely, and my breathing picked up. “I want to hear you, Sofia.”
It felt good. So, so good. I felt conflicted, aroused, afraid… helpless. I felt like prey, like a trapped animal. The vibrations increased. I wanted it. I did want it. And I didn’t. The vibrations increased again. I trembled, losing myself in his perfect trap. “I want it, Sir,” I said quietly, with as much control as I could muster. I closed my eyes, slowly nodding. “I want it, please. I… crave it.” I began to cry as the device escalated its program.
“Tell me more,” his voice held heat in it.
“I want it. I want you… I want…” my words trembled, “Everything… you do.”
“Everything?”
“Yesss…” the word was drawn out as a small wave of pleasure wracked my body. The vibrations slowed down, but didn’t stop this time. “I need… it. I need you.” A swell of goose flesh raced across my skin as I told him the absolute truth. “I love the things… you do to me.”
He ran his fingers through my hair. I flinched involuntarily. “I love hearing you say that, Sofie,” he said softly. “I admit I look forward to your dates with him more than I probably should. You come back, so… submissive,” he mused. “So eager.” His grip tightened as the vibrations in my device began their climb, once again. “It is such a pleasure to hurt you when you are so damn willing.”
I closed my eyes. I felt the trickle of shame as he named my crime. I carried conflicted emotions about our trysts. As much as I enjoyed playing domme, as much as I enjoyed an approved affair, I still felt like I was doing some wrong; his fists, his belt, his voice, diminished that guilt. Every time John and I got together, I struggled with the same feelings, only to be met with my perfect match, the man I married.
Every time, Ethan gave me exactly what I craved. “I do need it.” I looked at him, feeling broken open. “Thank you…” I felt a wave of blush creep across my face, “For punishing me.” I needed his punishment. I never felt closer to him then moments like it, smoldering in my suffering – for him.
He traced his finger along my bruised cheekbone. “Of course.” His other hand snaked down between my legs, where the chastity device was still humming away quietly. I sucked in my breath when I felt the extra heat. “Nothing pleases me more,” he smiled darkly, “And I look forward to making you cry every day for the next two weeks.” He looked down at me, bemused. “And then after that, how much longer can we keep you a perfectly willing, desperate cum slut?” He paused for effect. “Hmm, imagine the things you’ll do for me. That’ll you beg to do.”
My breathing pick up, as he moved to untie me. I winced as unobstructed blood flow returned to my toes. He scooped me up like a child, and placed me back down so my head rested on a pillow; I hadn’t realized how exhausted I was. The vibrations in my pussy quit, as was their nighttime programming. I let out a shaky breath.
I knew I’d be woken up too soon by the device’s incessant course. Ethan laid down next to me, and I snuggled against him. “Yes, Sir…” I said slowly as sleep dragged me into darkness.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32